Forever Gone Forever You
by PurplePiano22
Summary: 8 years after the events of Fields Of Innocence...Montaro returns, but how will he and Michiko control their feelings for each other when he is about to be brutally executed by her father the next day? Rate and Review


Forever Gone, Forever You

"Walking away, I see the pain you put me through, lost in your game to stay the same,"

The morning's light fights it's way through the window and dances on the Kaiyo girl's eyelids as they slowly flutter open. Her green eyes drowsily become more visible.

"_It's the same feeling every morning..."_ Her body curled up in pain from the lingering guilt. The scene from their final night forever etched in her memory.

"_Today's the day he left, 8 years ago." _That day was what she considered to be the last day of her youth. The cold morning after he left had caused a massive uproar in the Kaiyo household. Montaro's parents seemed to always look at her with disdain, and her own seemed to be more harsh and cold, like the whole thing really was her doing. Almost as if Montaro would still be there, even if he was holding a facade, if she hadn't released the horrid words. Training had become very strict and tense since then and expectations have elevated beyond the atmosphere, like they were all expecting her to be strong enough for her and him as well.

The field which she once referred to her as her place for freedom and joy has become her training ground of hell, and solitude. Training and sparring failures would lead into constant abusive words and occasionally, actions.

Even after the shock of his departure, her parents instantly began the frantic search to find a flawless suitor for their daughter. Someone that would be guaranteed to never end up like he did, all searches have ended in vain.

She'd still walk around calm and poised around the house, to show her determination and convince the rest of the Kaiyo household that her family and Montaro's have moved on, but inside she's given up, her life seems doomed to unwillingly chasing the illusion of perfection. Her only wish that keeps her going is to run away, soaring in the world as Montaro always longed. Even that seemed too selfish a wish, after what she's done. The more life moved on without him, the more sense his logic made.

Michiko throws her feelings away for the day and changes into her violet Kaiyo robe, time to face the morning. She straightens her posture as she marches down the stairs and greets her parents for breakfast.

"Morning's greetings to you Mother and Father,"She says sincerely, not a hint of a quiver in her voice. She anticipates the avalanche of reminders, schedules, events, goals, flaws, and whatever else, for the morning, but before dreaded words can flow from their lips, an interruption occurs.

"Kaiyo senpai! A lower placed member of the large clan rushes in towards her father. Everyone knows it must be something important for him to ignore requesting a formal entrance. Surprisingly, Michiko's father remains calm and reposed, seemingly curious by the urgency.

"Permission to speak is granted," he sighs.

"A group of the Kaiyos seem to have confirmed the spotting of Montaro Kaiyo and have taken him captive." He gasps, breathless from his dash.

Silence, the only form of reaction from the family. Facial expressions of rage, disgust and horror, scream more feelings than words will ever attempt.

After a few moments of composition, Michiko's father speaks.

"I see, please take me to where he is, I suppose we must still finish what we've attempted to start." All his rage has died and reincarnated into a sick, twisted grin.

"Michiko, just go upstairs and prepare to train." Her mother pleas, hoping to distract her daughter and teach her how to act as if it's any other normal day.

"I'm sorry, I refuse to listen, I have to see him." Her dark green eyes flare with a rebellious determination that's finally awoken from it's slumber of fear.

Her parents stare in shock, what's happened to the innocent, perfect daughter they've raised?

"Hm, please escort her down." Her father demands to the Kaiyo ninja.

"But why?" Her mother barks.

" Because I fear this rebellion of hers may become worse if we don't."

Michiko felt like screaming and smacking her guardians, can she ever get her way without them making her feel like a selfish monster? The Kaiyo offers her his hand, and she accepts without thought as he escorts her.

Montaro, how the name gave her chills. What's happened to him since then? Does he still have his sanity? Or at least all his limbs? Paranoia intrudes her mind. She wishes the little mischievous eight year old boy was still around. Prancing through the fields, his imagination soaring through the sky of his imaginative mind.

The boy she loved, the boy she will still always love, no matter how different he looks , how much torture his body's endured or even how much he may hate her. Her feelings for him are unquestionable, she would give her life over a million different ways just to prevent him from anymore harm. Her mind wanders to a different world, one where Montaro never did anything forbidden, and she never had to tell the family the secret because it never existed. They did get married, not by force, but by choice. His black hair perfectly groomed and his beautiful, green eyes twinkling in sheer joy, never touched by pain or torture.

They head pass her beautiful field, rain clouds loom over it as the trees darkly sway with the cold moans of the wind. After a few minutes past her landmark of innocence, he brings her to the edge of the Kaiyo property, heading towards a dilapidated shack. It seems like a poor forgotten box, torn by the forces of nature, but yet still bravely standing after countless years. The cold, rotting wood lets off an odour from the ambience of humid, misty rain.

He unlocks the door with a key, and for the first time in their lengthy walk, he stares at her.

"Please be careful Miss, I don't want to have to deal with your father. I'll be out here if you need me."

Michiko takes a deep breath, her heart chasing an inconsistent rhythm in her chest. Fear creeps through her mind as she lets off a slight, cold sweat. Unfortunately she knows she has to see him, the guilt is her punishment. She's daydreamed encounters where she falls to her knees, begging for his forgiveness, and as undeserving as she is, he'd hold her in his arms and whisper that everything would be ok. Besides, the span of years had given her many times to think about him, and how he made her feel.

She steps into the dark shack, a single candle arrays a dim light. The door shuts behind her with a tormenting click.

There is no denying it, there could be no one else in front of her, but him. Chained, bound and beaten inside a huge cage like a butchered animal, is Montaro. He is much taller than he was then, even though he's lying coldly, curled on the hard, wooden floor, he would probably tower over her at 6 feet. His now extremely muscular arms have been marked with multiple scars, some from fights, some from the blood jutsu, the source of everyone's pain. His black hair a ragged mess as it shades his face. The most astonishing thing about him though, was the change in his eyes. The dark green has faded into a paler shade, exactly like how his clan has faded away from him. His face cold and filled with threatening, unconditional hatred, burning through Michiko. Even though, she still finds him incredibly handsome.

"It's been awhile..." His voice comes out as a deep, hoarse growl.

Michiko is frozen, her eyes never gazing away from her cousin. She's the reason he's like that, battered, pained, locked, broken. Because of her. All she could do is soak it all in, she never expected the punishment to be so agonizing.

"I definitely won't blame you if you won't forgive me, in fact I'm willing to accept it, but I am sorry, I'm so sorry, there's nothing I can do to make this better. I'd make it all up to you if I could..." Her eyes blink back a crystal droplet.

The cold knife of silence from his ignorance slices through her chest as the pain of rejection takes over. She knew this was going to happen, she's acknowledged the fact ever since he left, but this pain was more than she ever thought was possible.

" Well, as if that's going to do any good." His voice is harsh, cold and angry, but somehow seems withdrawn.

"I...I just thought it would make you feel better if you knew." Michiko stutters. He's never lost that inner fire inside, still the Monty she remembered, the fact makes it hard for her not to slightly smile to herself in relief. He's not completely different. Maybe he actually would forgive her, as awful as she may be. That's all she'd ever need to put together the pieces of her crumbling world, him.

Montaro's hands quickly curl into fists, shaking with intense fury. He grits his teeth and snaps.

" Everyday, I'd think about you, how much I hate you, how I wish I could see you again just to kill you. You're blood haunts my dreams! At last, I finally get to achieve my single goal, to finally get revenge on you, what does it matter if they're going to kill me anyway?" His voice quakes in anxiety, his pale eyes gleaming with a wild insanity. His face lusting for blood, for vengeance, for pain.

Since they've disarmed him before locking him up, Montaro instinctively bites his arm, his teeth slashing through his skin making blood squirt out. Michiko realizes in trembling horror what he is about to do. Blood swirls and bans together, much thicker and stronger looking than before. The crimson ribbon filled with grace and strength slices through the bars effortlessly.

Instantly he charges at her, the full intention of murder in his ice, cold eyes. Blood flies towards her face in a blur as she blindly attempts to escape. Shock and betrayal flashes in her forest eyes.

"Monty...I don't want to fight," She pleas wearily. The full extent of his rage directed at her makes her realize the damage she's done to her cousin so many years ago. She finally acknowledges he is right, she deserves to die.

" It's a wonder you're still alive after all these years, because you haven't changed at all! For someone who's so sorry, what happened to me still wasn't enough to make you think. Oh well, I guess that makes it easier for me." His hateful words are more painful than his blood will probably ever be. The straight line of his lips sickly twists. Michiko feels herself fight with her inner anger.

"_Just once in my life...I deserve to fight back.." _All the times her parents have scolded her for hesitating and taking pity on the enemy, all the times of letting everyone else have their way, letting other people win because of her fear of harming them, even just in training fights. For that she took the brand of the weakest one, her parents have desperately tried to change that with no success. She wanted to know, what it would feel like to be the one doing the harm instead of the one taking it. Just once. How powerful is she actually?

She stands firm, fear in her eyes replaced by a new spark. Water spirals from the ground and flows around her. It slows as it freezes in the air then breaking into a vast amount of shards, like shattered glass. She swiftly waves her arm as they project towards Montaro in a blinding hail. Scarlet breaks out swiftly in tendrils like a defensive wall as the ice crystals drop to the floor, futile.

Montaro gives a tiny sigh of relief. Her unexpected change of heart caught him off guard, grace to his reflex or he may not have to be executed. Just the thought of her in victory against him again, sets him in a dark rage of hatred.

Blood slithers like a serpent at high speed and slaps around Michiko's leg. She yelps in pain as she drops to the ground. The rope of blood constricts tighter and tighter, piercing through her pale skin. Montaro laughs madly. He's finally did it, he has her perfectly in his grasp, ready for the long, agonizing, torturous death under his hand. Her face winced in pain, suffering washes away the will from her eyes. He mockingly brushes away a loose black hair from her terrified face.

"It didn't have to be this way. You could've been obedient to me, not them. I could've taught you the arts of blood. We could've ran away together..." His eyes taunting her with all the possibilities, all the things he had wanted for them. He let go of missing her years ago, but the what ifs have never completely faded.

" I would never!" Michiko cries attempting to be strong. Run away together? She had thought about it all the time. When the pressures of reputation had finally struck full force, she wondered what he'd be like if he stayed. She would've been more courageous to leave then, with him at her side.

Montaro keeps Michiko pinned to the ground. Their eyes saying more that's on their hearts than their lips could ever attempt to attain..

He stares at her, how much she's grown. The long waves of her black hair fall loose and free from the pigtails she wore as a child. A slight shade of red bursts onto her light cheeks. Her deep, emerald eyes shine wearily with a new maturity. The soft, eyes that would fall for anything have now adapted to the harsh world in a new light. The Kaiyo must have been livid to her after his flight for freedom. She is taller and more developed after the ripples of time. Michiko now looks like a young, even beautiful he'll admit, woman. His angry heart flutters for a moment. She's still delicate and fragile inside, the empathy he'll always admire, the one star that bravely remains in her forever changing night sky. Why is he still doing this?

She's lost in his entrancing, now pale, jade eyes. Her "nii-san" who she naively believed would be with her to the end, is now going to be the last face she'll ever see. His eyes amazed her, the colour of a pastel spring, though they look dreadfully miserable and tired, still their beauty shone. The untamable, spiky black hair has grown long enough to slightly stroke her cheek from the angle they lay at. His muscular body seemed strong enough to protect her from any harm, all but his own. Scars run through in dark ribbons all over his rough skin. Just one of the many relics of his hard life. He seemed to head into the morbid unknown of his future bravely that night, then coming back stronger on the exterior, but broken beyond measure in the depths of his heart and mind. How her body pangs for him in shame for her fault. There is no turning back on the thought, she loves him. So much that she is almost happy that her death would make him glad.

An icicle glimmers in her hand, it seems she forgot that she was defensively holding it before he fell on her. It's frigid tip accidentally carved a deep line of red on Montaro's arm. He clutches his arm in pain as she rises.

"I don't understand how we've ended up like this. I'm sorry." She cries apologetically. Typical Michiko has returned. He stares at her with a green gaze that almost seems like understanding as she runs off.

She hurries back out of the shack and to her escort. His anbu mask over his chest as he rests under the comforting shadow of a tall tree.

"I'm so sorry I kept you waiting," she pants.

"It's no big deal, could've been longer," he shrugs apathetically. Michiko smiles in relief as they slowly walk back towards the home she's always feared with one question on her mind.

"_What was he thinking about when he looked at me?"_

The cold navy of night crawls it's way across the sky as Montaro gazes into the heavenly beams of the rising moon. He always thought the moon was beautiful, in a way it was always there for him when no one else was. Following him, shining a ray of light and hope. When he was homesick and lonely, the moon hovered above him reassuringly, when he was lost, it shone the way, when he needed time to think, it shed it's bright light. Tonight, fortunately, was no exception. He beams in it's glorious rays.

The last night of his harsh life, his last chance to savour the grace of the moon, his final encounter with Michiko. Did today mean in their own way, they've dropped their dark past?

The second he saw her walk into the shack unsure and scared, he had his heart set on hating her without turning back, but being so close to her face and seeing her innocent eyes had just about instantly calmed his hurting soul, why would the same girl who'd given him this fate make him feel so at peace? He yearned for her right now, her head on his shoulder comforting him. Assuring him with her very presence that when he dies, he won't have to feel hated and alone. The sombre thoughts in his green eyes are brightened by the moonlight. His hair is lightly carried by the midnight breeze. He looks down miserably and sighs.

The door violently splits open giving Montaro a surprising jolt he desperately tries to hide. A despised face is highlighted by the bright moon. It's Michiko's father.

"Montaro, I don't know why fate decided to save someone as atrocious, despicable, and repulsive as you. We both know destiny doesn't have the grace to do it again, you will die tomorrow. Every action determines what happens to us afterward, you've just been asking for the bitter end since the beginning. " His eyes shine darkly in a way Montaro's used to.

Montaro sadly nods, refusing to lift his face to meet the eyes of the man he's always loathed. He does though, give a careless flip of both his middle fingers, he needed some satisfaction, that for sure gave him tons. His stubborn attitude makes the leader give up as he superiorly marches out the door, a look of massive offense on his face. His ego quickly shoves it off though.

"And by the way," he adds snidely. " I hope she smiles when you die." He shuts the door in content.

Montaro's face hardens, his eyes solemn and lonesome, sinking in the never ending crest of rolling thoughts. He ragefully kicks a bucket across the room and slams the walls with his fists. He deserves this more than anyone, but the lead Kaiyo's words stabbed truth all over his chest. He wanted to kill him in ferocious anguish, but that wouldn't achieve anything, he wanted to feel clean and pure before his final moments.

Montaro thinks of her. How her face will be stricken with grief tomorrow, he shakes his head . He doesn't want to waste his remaining time thinking of such things. He rather remember times when they didn't have anything to worry about. He lets out a secretive smile when he remembers the time she fell in the pond and he saved her. The time when he ranted about how much he hated his parents and wanted to run away someday while she just sat there and listened, wide eyed and attentive. The good memories like the blazing sun before the hurricane, that's what he wants to think about in his final hours.

Dawn spikes through the thick black sky. The Kaiyo ninja who escorted Michiko the day before knocks on Montaro's crumbling door.

"It's time," He says solemnly. Montaro just smiles and nods. He's more prepared than he'll ever be, he's welcomed death into his heart, his mind, and pretty soon his body will accept it as well.

"I know," Montaro says quietly. His tired, mint green eyes filled with dark sincerity. His dishevelled black hair frames his face, it's more passive than he expected it to be, but it seemed almost to be in a positive sense. He just shrugs carelessly.

"Get it over with," Montaro sighs shoving his hands outward. His eyes cold and ravishing with hidden fear.

The Kaiyo stands in awe for a minute, then chains his hands. Montaro stares at his bound hands as they walk. He feels himself slip away into thought again.

"_I'm going to see them all again, the ones I've left behind to despise my very existence. They're all going to watch with those sick, sadistic smiles of theirs. Well, screw them all!"_ He's planning the rest of his life in his head._ "I sure hope it's something quick like decapitation." _He wishes. _"Pfft...knowing me, definitely slow, long and painful...fun." _He thinks sarcastically _"It's going to be hard to look at Michiko when it happens. She's always been sensitive to stuff like this, she cried over dead ants when we were little." _He gives a slight laugh. _"As if she'd care about me though, I would be surprised if what her father said was true. Nah! She'll still be empathetic as always. I doubt an opportunity for me to say how I feel about her will arise..."_ He sighs with regret.

The Kaiyo leads him towards a safe haven better known as the field. He drowns in gratefulness, there is nowhere else in the world he'd rather die in. He'll fall with his memories, his childhood, his past joy.

"_Destiny is still on my side after all," _He thinks, graciously. He has been gifted with more than he deserves. His abdomen twists nervously and his spring eyes sadden as they arrive closer.

Everyone in the Kaiyo clan stands in a massive throng. Not a word is said. He spots a sorrow stricken, aging couple in the back. His chest throbs with nostalgic pain, his parents. They desperately grasp each others hands, their faces glance at their son in disbelief. Even though he's broken their hearts, it is clear they still love him and do not want to see him die. They stare at their son, tears crawling down their faces, seeing how much he's grown and how handsome he's become over his independent years. They then give piercing stares at Michiko, somehow blaming her for it all.

Montaro looks at her too, her pretty, dark, green eyes are huge and harassed by morbid thoughts. Her face seems lost in intense concentration. What could she be possibly be thinking of? Her long black hair falls in loose spiralled curls, gracefully tumbling down her back. Her father has made her wear a nice, white dress, for sure a taunt directed at him with animosity. She glances towards him and gives him a very weak, terrified smile. She really does care about him. He never knew a man could feel so blessed before death.

The cruel leader stands tall, waiting in thrilling anxiety. He motions the Kaiyo to bring him forward. He forcefully knocks Montaro to his knees and chains his feet in front of the whole clan. He grits his teeth, trying to soften his eyes that have begun to harden with anger born from embarrassment. He attempts a deep, calming breath.

His mother covers her face in his father's chest. The Kaiyo's head holds a red blindfold and before he forces it over Montaro's eyes. He takes a last glance of Michiko, her hair blowing in the wind, her eyes now glowing with an unknown expression , the last thing he sees before his world is forever blotted by a cold shadow.

"_I'm ready for this...Don't give a damn what they think, Screw it. I'm about to never see these people again,"_ He has to remind himself, the pressure of the crowd making it easy to forget. His jade eyes relax once again and he breathes in easier. Come what may, he's ready for anything.

"Today we are gathered to demonstrate what happens to those who betray and turn their cold backs on us. Those who do wrong and have wicked souls. Those who have inner demons in their heart whispering evil commands. We are here to see what happens to the likes of people like this, in the end. Like the pain and suffering they have caused others in their lives, it will whip back at them a thousand fold. They will all burn in hell, where they belong, for eternity. Sounds about right doesn't it?" The cruel opening speech from the head Kaiyo is followed by a monstrous roar of approval from the crowd. Montaro blindly keeps his head straight forward, his black shirt wavering with the wind. Let them think what they please, nothing was going to discourage him. He was going to accept this death gracefully, something he couldn't find the courage to do eight years ago. Let them light him on fire and incinerate him, let them decapitate him ,let them hang him, let them slowly starve him to death, let them stab him, let them gouge out his eyes, nothing was changing his mind, his fear will not be forced out. Not in front of them anyways...

Michiko's stomach gasps with every beat of her speeding heart.

"_Monty..._" The only thought Michiko's mind could produce. Her night had been sleepless, his face keeping her eyes open. Her father had ordered the Kaiyo elders to dress and prepare her as beautifully as they could. As hands went all over to twirl her hair, cover the darkness under her eyes and fit her in multiple dresses, her mind reached out to him. Her love for him was so great, it killed her just to think that she'll stand there helpless upon his demise. Life would return to hell again after the hope he had given her. She feels as if she'd failed him, there is absolutely nothing she can do, but stand there as useless as she was, and watch him die at the sinful hands of her father.

Montaro kneels, his eyes blind to the world, unaware of when the death blow will strike him lifeless. Even as the unknown lay seconds away, she recognizes the cocky face she's always admired. Even before death, he is still majestic. Her father reaches for a kunai and to everyone's bewilderment, sticks it's sharp tip in his skin and smoothly rushes it downward. Blood leaks out.

"_No!"_ Her mind cries in agony. _"He's never going to hurt nii-san!_ _No one will! I...I will stop him. I love Monty. I owe him my life... " _Before she can think her hands slightly flick upward as ice silently creeps up Montaro's chains.

The crowd is too occupied staring at a giant axe of blood, formed from the head Kaiyo's strength. It forms in the air for a few moments growing larger and sharper by the second. Michiko feels her trembling feet start to move, slowly at first but then they accelerate. Her arm whips to the side as Montaro's chains shatter with the ice. She sends a small current of water jetting towards his face and slices the blindfold.

"Michiko! Get the hell out of the way!" Her dad roars.

"No, I won't let you hurt him father...I love him," Michiko says softly, the winds blowing cries, makes her voice only audible to him and Montaro. She continues, her voice slightly stronger, her eyes brighter.

"And I'm not afraid to fight you to make sure he's safe,"

Her father's eyes narrow and dim in fury as he glares at Montaro, sitting on the ground in massive shock of the sudden events. Did she really care for him as much as he hoped?

"What have you done to her mind!" He questions with intense disdain.

"He's done nothing!" Michiko yells and lunges towards her father, the area around her shimmering with multitudes of ice fragments. A blizzard of them dart at the lead Kaiyo as he just shrugs and raises his axe of blood, they all shatter and disappear on contact.

Michiko stands disappointed for a second, then elegantly forms a long, thick icicle from the water flowing out of her hand. She attempts to pierce her father as she sways it like a perfect extension of her hand. Her barrage of attacks endure for a few minutes with her father effortlessly protecting himself. She then stops for a few moments gasping for air, exhausted.

Montaro stares, his light, spring, eyes wide with dread as he sees a sneering grin grow on her father's ruthless face. He is about to take a sick advantage of a grim opportunity. He slowly and silently raises his weapon. Montaro opens his mouth to scream, but no sound is produced.

The bloody axe swings and rips down Michiko's back, it pauses in her sliced skin before the tip sinks deeper into her until it can be seen barely protruding from her front.

Her forest eyes are huge with the abrupt, shock of the pain, then the green rings start to slowly close. Blood falls from her now scarlet lips as she weakly collapses to the ground, sheeted by the field's emerald blades. The axe is violently extracted by her father as it is uprooted from her body. The snow, white dress is splattered with flowing crimson.

He instantly runs towards her, he doesn't care what the crowd thinks, what his parents or even what her father, his uncle, thinks. He just cares that Michiko has sacrificed herself to save him from a judgement he's finally realized he deserved after eight years. She has proved her love trying to save him. That was definitely something he didn't deserve, the thought infests his heavily, guilty conscience.

" No!" Montaro cries, sheer panic in his voice. He drops to her side and curves his hand on her ice cold cheek, gently brushing the black curls away.

"Monty..." Her voice sounds like a fading whisper in the wind. Her darkened eyes barely parted open for him, the effort rapidly draining her. Michiko's breaths become heavier and shorter as she painfully heaves.

"Yes, I'm here Michi," he says soothingly, the sound of her childhood nickname sounds new on his tongue after so many years without it. His light eyes stricken with concern and sorrow as he holds her towards him.

At the very moment he senses the disturbing presence of blood, an attack from her father.

He can feel his heavy footsteps charging towards them, axe in hand. Montaro's jade eyes intensify as he wills a barrier to surround them. A line of red encircles the area as it rises into a blood filled dome. All he needs right now is some time away from the chaotic world in the field and to be with her.

"Run..." Michiko begs faintly, she starts to wearily gasp for air, more blood gushes down her lips. The gasps convert to racking coughs of blood as she shudders, pain burning through her weakened body. The echoes bounce and emphasize in the small dome. Making it worse for Montaro, almost as if he has to experience her pain twice.

He struggles to look at his beloved cousin in such pain that should've been his own, tortured with overwhelming grief. He embraces her firmly, but softly. Her head lightly pressed to his chest, her legs limply dangling over his strong arms. The only thing keeping himself from breaking down was her, feeling her chest as unstable as it was, continue to rise and fall.

The dome in the middle of the field hums tauntingly with blood to the head Kaiyo. He draws more blood from his body, the axe begins to morph into a long, curved, scarlet scythe. The crowd of Kaiyos are still frozen in shock, the events flashing too quickly for them to completely grasp. Michiko's mother is crying miserably, had her strong, calm husband really just mortally wound her daughter?

Montaro's parents are hysterical in their thoughts, he's still alive, all because of her, the girl who destroyed their perfect reality years ago. Well, they did hate her father much more. Cocky, arrogant and sadistic, but flawless in cloaking these faults from the rest of the clan, oblivious to his true nature.

Montaro's father had fallen in love with the head Kaiyo's sister, the two of them snuck out at night to be with each other for years. Unfortunately, the secret was revealed when he had gotten her pregnant. The leader had made sure that the two of them lived in the poorest quarters of the Kaiyo household since then. None of the head Kaiyo's wrath mattered to him because he had his love, and then a baby son named Montaro who looked exactly like his beautiful mother. He watched his family in delight as Montaro grew over the years, up until that day of course...She had been everything to him since the loss of their son. All they had was each other, not even the main Kaiyo family could ever attempt to steal that from them.

Now that there was the slightest possibility of hope like the moon's light in the darkest night, Montaro's mother would fight anyone, even her own brother, to the death for her son back. He had considered himself the sole heir to the Kaiyo clan after what he considered his sister's betrayal. She was left depressed over her decision after that because, she had done everything for him in their childhood. She loved her brother in such a way that she saw Michiko look at Montaro sometimes. Time for her to permit the cascades of time erase her past and fight along with her husband against their greatest enemy.

Their eyes meet and nod in unison agreement, their hands reach for knives as they slash each other's arms. The blood battle has begun. He forms a trident and she a spear. Their free hands lock fingers as they rush together. For Montaro's freedom and safety, the reason for no fear or regret.

Michiko's father throws back his head in sadistic laughter, the sister that abandoned him and the vile man who stole her away, accusing him of injustice? The opportunity for revenge was the widest it'll ever be for the first and probably last time. When they fall dead, he'll just explain it to the clan as an act of defence. He knows very well, that fear has blackened their hearts and judgment, they wouldn't dare to testify against him.

The spikes of the trident slash past his face, the swish of air that could've caused a heavy rip down until it reaches his throat has been avoided. The spear's point is hacked off by his scythe before it could slash his side. The head Kaiyo raises his weapon in anxiety, it's his turn now. The crescent curve of the dripping, red blade catches his neck first, cleanly slicing past as the disconnected body slumps. The scythe's stroke continues in it's path of momentum finally to her. There is no moment for reaction, no second for her eyes to flinch, no time for him to say good bye, it just enters the protective layer of skin around her veins and bones and exits as quickly as it came. It's over. Now just to wait for the damned boy to leave his cowardice and emerge from his bubble.

Montaro mournfully looks down at Michiko, she's weakly fighting to remain conscious. Her tired eyes will close for a moment and she seems peacefully at ease, but she burdens them to slowly rise back open again. The time they stay closed for grows in longer intervals and when they do open it's for brief moments, her eyelids will be heavier then they were the last time.

Montaro finally gathers himself to answer her.

"No," he says stubbornly, his brow is determined, his sea green eyes flare with confidence. "I'm not leaving you, because I love you too..." his straight face is broken by a warm blush, he continues.

"I'm going to get us both out of here, just rest ok? Leave everything to me, you shouldn't have to try and fix other people's messes," Talking to Michiko calmed him down. Her drooping eyes show that she is too weak and exhausted to protest. Her weighted eyelids finally fall shut, as the side of her head presses deeper into his chest. The cold blood wets his shirt, but he doesn't care. Montaro rests his head against hers.

"Michi? You still there?" He whispers, softly, slight worry comes off stronger than intended in his voice. Before he has to fight for their freedom and their lives, there is something he has to do.

Michiko faintly makes a soft moan and sinks more into him. Her eyes are too worn out to open again.

Montaro gives a slight sigh of relief. His hand cradles the smooth curve of her neck, his fingers lace into her raven curls. Then his lips caress hers. He tastes the blood, but it doesn't matter to him. His lips press tight almost as if they can steal away her suffering. Her lips slowly respond, as they both share their first kiss. Even the circumstances of the situation can't steal the magic from it.

He stops when she surrenders to unconsciousness, her lips stop and grow cold. Montaro gently places Michiko in the safety of the comforting grass. He strokes the dark hair away from her forehead and softly kisses it. Then he gets up, time to face the cold, harsh reality the rest of the world has to offer.

Montaro slowly lowers the blood surrounding them. The red of the dome gradually being replaced by the vision of the greens of the grass. Something in the vast field catches his immediate, razed attention. A clear sentient light hits his eyes, making their appearance a grassy, emerald as they flicker a lucid tear. Blood is splattered on the moss blades, this crimson release is obviously not from the head Kaiyo's technique or from Michiko's injury. It's all from the destroyed remains he used to know as "Mother" and "Father". The tear makes it's descent down his face.

" You murdered them!" His voice is broken in it's rising suffering. Hatred searing through his veins. If anyone deserved to die more than him today, it would doubtlessly be this man.

Michiko, his prize he had offered to Montaro years back, mercilessly wounded without the consideration of being his family, his own daughter.

His parents... There had been a time where his father was his hero and his mother's arms were the safest place in the world. A time where his mother's soft voice erased the nightmares and his father's skilled arm directed his weak one in throwing kunai. He remembered feeling their love and wanting to stay with them forever. Before he could realize again how much he needed there support, a few tender words of wisdom, a few actions of defence, they were forever gone. Because of a ruthless face with a tendency to bloodlust.

"Montaro, look at what you made your parents do, you selfish demon. How many people are you willing to sacrifice to save yourself?" His tongue peeks out to wipe the blood from his face. Insanity blazing in his eyes.

That made Montaro snap. No more pain, no more suffering, no more sacrifice, no more manipulation, no more death and definitely no more with the Kaiyo leader. It's the only thing he can do to make up for the precious lives of his parents and Michiko's fearless revelation. Even if the only thing he has to offer them is his filthy, undeserving life and his heart.

The whip rises from recycled blood that originated from the dome. It lashes towards the head Kaiyo full force, it's movement slicing sound into the air. His sage eyes crave vengeance.

The blood binds around the leader's body, constricting his circulation, slicing deeper into him until he is sliced into chunks. The disconnected parts disappear in a cloud of dust. A substitution. Montaro narrows his eyes, frustration and disappointment consuming him, but not yet failure. Where could he be?

A cold, leaking rush overwhelms his abdomen, he wills himself to look down in dismay. A thick, red line squirts blood, he gasps as he falls to his knees, fighting for air. When did the head Kaiyo strike him? Was he really that fast?

Pain consumes his vision as time feels like a never ending race through eternity. There is nothing else to feel, but sharp blasts surging throughout his body. Still he rises, slow and steady, immense pain exploding with every movement, he trembles but persistently stands. His ice, cold eyes are locked onto their target, there is no time to allow any pain to overtake him, not until he dies.

The head Kaiyo is visible once again, anticipating the extent of Montaro's strength. He knows he can win in an instant, so of course he wants to have fun with the boy, make him think he has a chance.

The blood hovers around Montaro as the whip extends and thickens. It flashes forward, so swift that it can hardly be seen, let alone avoided, as it splits through the air and slashes through the leader's backside, leaving a raw, stinging mark. Montaro smiles, of course he wasn't going to reveal how fast he is as well right away. Years of solitude and countless fights for mere survival had prepared him more than any training would.

The head Kaiyo's face scrunches in pain and humiliation. No one can take away his honour, his pride, his glory, especially the likes of someone as rebellious and defiant as Montaro. Such a man should not have the dignity to be known as a Kaiyo, he would better off to strengthen the soil with his rotting carcass. Something he will definitely ensure to happen in the very near future. His squinty, dark, green eyes seem extremely enlightened by the thought.

He charges with his scythe, madly swinging it in all directions. Montaro desperately dashing from side to side, narrowly avoiding each swing. The leader knows it will only be a matter of seconds before the boy will tire and the scythe will be the last thing to go through his body.

Montaro gasps, sweat rolling down his face. He can't keep this up for much longer, but what else can he do? The scythe lightly slits his pants and barely cuts his skin as it plummets and roots into the ground. He knows he has been graced with an advantage. He rapidly separates the distance between him and the head Kaiyo, the immense fields like an ocean between them.

Blood begins to float from the gash in his side, it flies in a blind flurry towards the leader, then splits into multiple tendrils, some of them find their mark as they shred into his back, arms and legs. The rest are reflected by the scythe's defensive position before the head Kaiyo's fall, as they rebound towards Montaro and dig into his body.

Every inch of Montaro is trembling from the stabbing, burning sensations that flare throughout his body, but yet he carries on. He has to destroy the leader, he has to get Michiko out of here, he has to set himself free. His distracting thoughts are interrupted by the sting of a point under his rib cage as it sears down to his leg. The scythe has torn down the side of his body.

He won't fall, he can't, falling means he has given up, making it impossible to rise again. The pain makes his vision blurred, his thoughts hazy, his body weak, but somehow he manages to lift his quivering arm as the tendrils of blood attempt to weave through the leader again.

Montaro feels as if he's not even present, when he hears the somehow far away seeming grunts of the head Kaiyo. The pain obviously has to be just as excruciating for him as well, though he is equally talented as Montaro is in stamina. One fact though is obvious, they are both at their limits.

The two are instantly enraged by the damaging blows inflicted by the other. They ricketily dash towards each other, no blood, just the intention of sheer power.

A startling sight begins to emerge in the shrinking gap of space between them. A strong, thick wall of blooming ice crystals, shoot up towards the sky. An obvious obstacle in the way of each other's destruction. Montaro rapidly twists his head to the side and sees her.

Michiko has put all her remaining strength into the barrier, her trembling body is covered in sweat, one hand grasping at the stab wound in her front, she gasps and pants, but she remains standing, filled with persistence.

"Please...stop," She weakly begs, her voice growing hoarse. Michiko's green eyes are dulled by the shadows underneath them as they wearily glance at Montaro, attempting to assure him. Then finally to her father, her stare is filled with a never ceasing fire, though it is fading in her weakness, that he will refrain from the animosity towards her love. She drops to her knees and violently hacks. A heavy, consistent flow of blood emerges from her lips.

Michiko's father and Montaro are frozen in confoundment. How could Michiko be in such massive pain, still muster the colossal amount of chakra necessary to form the giant wall of ice, and still be able to stand for a few moments?

The head Kaiyo stares at his soft, useless daughter in thought. He had never seen the full potential of her abilities, but of course she is of his blood. It is such a shame that Michiko is on the traitor's side. She would of been such a good use to the clan, but just like Montaro, she must be ridden of.

Montaro reads the vile look of hunger in the leader's eyes. The hunger for more blood, more death. His eyes bore into Michiko, perfectly vulnerable a few feet away. No! He'll make sure her father never harms her again! The fight must continue.

Montaro pulls more blood from his multiple wounds, reminding him of the pain he's been pushing away. All the agony takes over his movement, he shudders and gasps, trying not to cry out loud. He abruptly stops and wipes blood away from his mouth, everything in his body numbing with the damage done to him.

"_Damn it!"_ He yells to himself in the safety of his mind. _"Come on! Just suck it up for a few more minutes, then we're out of here!"_

The blood curls and cascades around his feet in multiple tendrils, they divide in different directions and fly. The head Kaiyo quickly trying to fend them all off with his scythe. Then unexpectedly, the scythe stretches forward just like Montaro's whip did and slashes once again across his stomach.

This time Montaro cannot stop himself from screaming in pain, his body feels like it's on fire. He knows he is still standing, but the only thing he can see all around him is blackness. The pain is too much, everything burning, stinging, swelling, bleeding, failing him. How good it would feel to just drop and be consumed by the field's protective grass, close his eyes and just slip away from the rest of the world. That was the original plan before the violence started right? A single memory haunts his vision, Michiko laying underneath him the day before, her emerald eyes lit up by the sun, making the rings almost as light as his. The innocence and hidden pain in her eyes. As he peered into them, he memorized every streak, every speck, every detail and shade of the pure green. Except there was one, single thing that detracted from their intense beauty, her eyes were heavily clouded with longing for escape. Michiko's eyes snap him back to reality, he will keep fighting to clear those beautiful eyes. He can do this. The only thing in his way is the dreaded leader of the clan. Nothing will stop him. Nothing.

The extended scythe starts to double in size. The head Kaiyo's eyes flare with ferocity, but seems almost relaxed in a sense of cockiness, he believes with every ounce of blood that pulses through his veins, that he will be the one who will walk away alive.

Scythe and tendrils collide heavily, strongly and rapidly in consecutive swings. All of them powerfully blocked by the rapid reflexes of the other. Finally two tendrils drill into the leader through both sides.

The head Kaiyo stands silent, his eyes wide in shock. He never thought the possibility would occur, but now it is impending. The pain he has denied until now begins to make up for lost time. The traitor basically has him in defeat, the most he can do now is bring Montaro down with him. He only has enough strength for another attack or two. He gathers his strength and hurls the enlarged scythe as it rushes towards it's target, Montaro's chest.

Montaro gasps, the scythe growing in his sight of vision every moment his eyes stay open. His tendrils whip forward, high speed, in his defence.

Michiko lifts her head up from the grass, her body shuddering in exhaustion and suffering. Time seems to freeze, as if the dreaded sight before her will never happen, but for sure it will come to pass in a few moments. The scythe hurled by her dying father soars towards her beloved Montaro. She sees him, in all his beauty, all his strength, all his determination. What would she do if that all died in front of her? The thought was too unbearable, Montaro deserved another chance to live, to run away, to escape, even if he can't take her with him. Just knowing that he'll be safe would make her life, or what may remain of it.

Michiko forces her faltering legs to stand, her battered, weary body starts to run before the relapses of agony could assault it. She races in between her father and Montaro, the scythe now shooting towards her, what she doesn't see behind her, is Montaro's tendrils...

As soon as the tendrils were released, they couldn't be stopped. Montaro watches as the tendrils desperately attempted to swat the scythe away. Onto his field of vision, he sees a girl stagger in the way, her arms defensively spread out, her back facing him, long black hair messily tousled down her back as curls unravel, her white dress splattered with blood, Michiko.

He gasps, and hysterically attempts to draw the tendrils of blood back. He can't be the reason for her death, how would he manage to live with himself? All efforts are futile, his stomach dithers so hard he almost pukes. One tendril does manage to fend off the scythe, but that doesn't prevent one from mercilessly storming through her body. The tendril lifts her a few feet off the ground, it continues through her stomach before it violently exits the hole from which the tendril made it's entrance.

"_Monty...you're okay,"_ she smiles in her mind, as her eyes shut to greet the darkness and her body begins to fall after being raised in the air.

Montaro instantly darts toward Michiko and catches her. She seems so cold, so lifeless, in his arms, her skin whiter than her dress. He holds her close to him as he watches the tendril continue through her father's heart. He is dead. It's all over.

The Kaiyos stand as horrified witnesses to the blood shed and carnage as Montaro disappears.

He bolts with Michiko in his arms, never stopping for a rest until the village is in complete view behind him. He stops for a moment behind a tree, the arms provide shade to cool off his sweaty, bloody body. He leans against it's firm trunk and sadly gazes towards, the loud, bustling beauty the rain village holds. He looks down at Michiko, blindly fidgeting, agonized in his arms, screaming and crying in her unconsciousness.

"Hey, Michi...: He whispers attempting to calm his distressed voice. "I wish you could see this right now, the peaceful, safe village you've lived in, but never gotten to appreciate."

She instantly settles down and her head drops.

"Good bye rain..." He quickly says for the two of them as he continues to run.

The branches continue to grab out for him as they leave lines of red all over his body, but onward he goes, never stopping. The sun and moon have taken turns, exchanging light a couple times, but he knows he must continue, straight ahead, no matter where it may lead. He has to get him and Michiko somewhere safe.

"_So tired..."_ He HAS to stop. Montaro's shaky legs finally come to halt, but the unfortunately expected happens. His wounds begin to throb in unison and sear down him. He falls to his knees as he drops Michiko. He attempts to reach out to her, but he is too numb, everything trembling and sweating and bleeding. He begins to gasp for breath that comes in smaller quantities. The trees begin to spin and blur, the sun beating down on him for what seems like years. No matter how hard he fights with himself, his eyes constantly grow closer to shut.

"_I'm sorry Michiko I failed..._" Darkness consumes him as he sinks deeper into it with a weary relief..


End file.
